


BOOM

by alltoseek



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-21
Updated: 2014-04-21
Packaged: 2018-01-20 05:39:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1498702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alltoseek/pseuds/alltoseek
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There is no explosion at the pool.</p>
<p>It happens later, at 221B.</p>
            </blockquote>





	BOOM

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [thegameison_sh](thegameison_sh.livejournal.com) [prompt](http://thegameison-sh.livejournal.com/47230.html) "Phantom Touch".

_BOOM_

It never came. Before Sherlock could pull the trigger, all the lights in the pool went dark. They heard a maniacal laugh from Moriarty, then nothing. The red laser lights too were gone.

Hours later, hours of questioning, hours of minutely searching the flat, removing every possible bug, including (especially) those of Mycroft's.

These hours later, John and Sherlock were finally alone again in the flat, resting. Rather, John was resting. Sherlock was relaxing in his favourite way: teasing out the puzzle of Moriarty. He paced about the sitting room, his strides physical echoes of his racing mind. Occasionally he'd call out an observation to John, whose replies became less and less coherent. Eventually John rose to make tea for them both.

~*~  
 _”Who’s the posh bloke?” John asked the cabbie standing next to him. They were among a crowd watching the tall man flit about the officers in the crime scene as if he owned it, flinging instructions, insults, and inductions interchangeably._

_“Calls ‘isself Sherlock ‘olmes.”_

_“What’s he do?”_

_The cabbie laughed. “Shows up everyone else.”_  
~*~

Gradually Sherlock's hectic pacing slowed; he frowned, his thoughts narrowing, focusing. John slipped off to bed. Sherlock laid down on the sofa, thinking, thinking …

He opened his eyes to see a blurry John puttering about -- about -- _something_. Sherlock blinked - John still fuzzy; his own thinking muddled, drool on his chin, limbs unresponsive. _Drugged - the tea! But... John? Why --?_

John glanced over, attention attracted by Sherlock's abortive movements. "All the body parts were helpful, but the head is especially convenient," he explained. "Now even the dental records will match. Donovan will be so pleased to be proved right after all, don't you think?”

~*~  
 _John watched the ‘consulting detective’ slip a wad of notes to the tramp before swirling away._

_“Generous, is he?” John asked._

_“‘e gets wot ‘e pays for.”_

_“Yeah? What’s that?”_

_“Information.” The old man eyed him. “You on the streets a bit? You could ‘elp out.” The hand with the money gestured vaguely._

_“Uh, no thanks,” said John. He’d no interest in turning informer for some arrogant twit._  
~*~

"Don't worry," John smiled reassuringly at Sherlock. "I'm not going to kill you. No, I've become rather good at gauging explosives. All set now," he said with a finishing touch to the device.

_A bomb_ , Sherlock realised belatedly. "Jih... Morh...," he mumbled.

"Yes," replied John, moving to the sofa. "Well, no. Jim was from IT, and also an aspiring actor - very good, I thought. Convincing. Moriarty was an old professor of mine. Ethics. Ironic isn't it? I just borrowed his name - he had nothing to do with this." John lifted Sherlock under the arms and dragged him off the sofa. "Oof," he grunted as Sherlock's legs fell onto the floor, "This is not good for my shoulder."

~*~  
 _John was just leaving the internet cafe when Mycroft strolled up next to him. John sighed, and fended off pointed remarks about his activities with equally sharp comments regarding privacy._

_John watched him walk away, umbrella swinging jauntily. A battlefield! They'd no notion of real warfare. Camaraderie, common purpose, honour - they knew none of it. They’d laugh at it! To them it was all a game, winners and losers, nothing more._  
~*~

Walking backward out the flat's door John dragged Sherlock a few steps down the stairs. Carefully he turned Sherlock’s body over so he lay face down, head down. "The idea is that it'll look like the bomb went off while you were standing at the top of the stairs. Or rather that you had planned for it to look like that. And mine will be the body that Lestrade and team will be standing over. Well, the remaining bits of it. Really bored, weren't you? This should be fun for you, convincing them you didn't do it.

"True, 'Moriarty' did it. But Moriarty is an invention - he'll disappear when I do. And John Watson will be dead. Who is left but you?"

"No... Donh..." Sherlock tried to speak.

"Proving your innocence ought to keep you busy enough. No time for boredom!" John said cheerfully.

Stay, Sherlock wanted to say. He was not concerned for himself. You don't have to do this. Just stay. His eyes closed unwillingly. His heart, which should have been pounding from adrenaline, beat painfully, as sluggishly as his thoughts.

John hovered over him. A slight touch, the faintest caress on his cheek; then John's footsteps went muffled down the stairs.

_BOOM!_

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [The Investigation](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1813534) by [Small_Hobbit](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Small_Hobbit/pseuds/Small_Hobbit)




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